A Jewel in the Dirt - 3. A smooth start

'Making yourself useful' initially consisted of spending hours cleaning the windows on the ground floor with TJ. As in the kitchen, TJ happily babbled on, gossiped and prattled about people Dante didn't know but, according to TJ, would soon meet. The last time Dante had to clean windows was when he was a teenager, and when they finally finished, he was not very happy about the prospect of having to do it regularly. Everything about him was kind of wet and his fingers were all bloated.

"You weren't so bad," TJ then noted and threw all the rags and sponges in one of the buckets. "At least for a spoiled luxury slave." His condescending tone was tempered by a cheerful wink, and Dante wrung a smile from himself.

Even before he could go looking for Seth afterwards, he was found by Seth himself and got a big basket pressed into his hand- for the dirty laundry. It was Seth who collected the laundry from the rooms, and Dante could not see more than tiny sections of the interior. With two fully loaded baskets they went down to the basement and Dante was explained the sorting system for the washing- he had never had to worry about that either. The washing machine's display showed a remaining time of 15 minutes and Dante almost expected them to make good use of the time, but Seth just looked at him for a long moment.

"You can ask questions," he finally said.

"Do you have any tips for me? Rules? Laws? Dos and don'ts?" To his words Dante made a somewhat helpless gesture and Seth smiled weakly.

"Obey your mistress."

Dante grimaced. "No kidding."

"Do not cross Mistress Carolyn. Do not talk about Mistress Charlotte or Anthony. Avoid the workers. Don't leave the house unless you have a good reason."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Why should I avoid the workers? How many are there anyway? What's the matter with these persons which are not spoken about?"

"There are 14 work slaves at the moment, Blaise acts as their overseer. Apart from Adam and Douglas, they're a rough bunch." Seth tilted his head in a strange way and Dante waited. He had heard that work slaves didn't have the best manners, but nevertheless he would have to come down here often just for the laundry.
"Mistress Charlotte was Mistress Carolyn's mother," Seth then went on very quietly and gave Dante a warning look. "A tyrant. Remember this if you think Mistress Carolyn is hard or unfair."

Dante nodded briefly, though there were many households with this kind of story. 'Do not complain about your mistress, it could be much worse.' Blah, blah, blah.

"Anthony... is Miss Alice's twin brother. He is deceased. Especially to her, you shouldn't mention him."

Dante nodded again, this time he meant it. "Is there anything else I should know that's urgent?"

Now it was up to Seth to shrug. "Most things will come in time. Obedience and diligence."

Into Dante's sighing the washing machine beeped and although the display still showed a green 6, Seth opened the door with verve and pulled out heavy work clothes.

For a new load of laundry, Dante got the washing machine explained, the various bottles of detergent and then followed Seth upstairs and out into the garden. Right next to the house there was an extended terrace with seating furniture, surrounded by beds of flowers and herbs. There was a large section of meadow with half a playground, and on one side there were long clotheslines on which two or three loads of washing machine were already hanging. Behind it was a huge fenced-in vegetable garden. There were large barns and low stables, garages and a large water tank.

"I see you are impressed," Seth remarked with an audible smile and Dante nodded silently. The sheep seemed to graze among some fruit trees, but he had no idea about such things. He probably couldn't name most of what landed on his plate in its original state. "Where are you from?"

"Denser's Port," Dante murmured, watching two men each dragging two buckets of something from the vegetable garden.

Seth gave an astonished whistle and Dante turned to him; he had already hung half the laundry.

"Haven't you ever been to a bigger city?"

"Bigger than Townsend around the corner? Only two or three times. Westshire. But that's an industrial town and not very exciting, unless you need new machines."

Dante nodded thoughtfully and tried to do the same as Seth, smoothing the clothes with just a sharp movement of his hand so that you could hang them up without any problems. It wasn't really working.

"So... you were a butler. What else?"

"Butler, bodyguard, chauffeur... all rolled into one." Dante shrugged half-heartedly and Seth examined him from head to toe.

"When Miss Alice takes you shopping, you should mention it. Then she'll definitely buy you a few more things to show off about when the Braddock’s come, for example."

Dante nodded simply. He didn't feel nearly prepared for what would be expected of him here, but there was already a certain chaos of new impressions in his head that was growing and demanding more attention.

~

"What are you lazing around for?"

The sharp voice made Dante, who had laid his head on his arms for two minutes, wince so violently that he almost fell off his chair.

"Miss Britney," Seth immediately said, "I allowed Dante to rest for a moment. Your father has sent him artificially to sleep for the ride and I don't think he takes it well."

The adrenaline whipped Dante awake and when Miss Britney snorted in annoyance, he fell to his knees in haste before her. "I'm sorry, Miss Britney."

"Of course you're sorry. You're a spoiled brat from the city. What did you do there all day? Standing around looking pretty?"

"Among other things, yes," he answered honestly.

"Well, I guess you'll learn here what the word work means." She laughed quietly and spitefully and then grabbed him by the chin. "You'll be useless to Alice for the first few weeks..." Her eyes sparkled dangerously in the bright light of the kitchen and Dante murmured out of habit:

"Yes, Miss."

She snorted again and let him go. "The boys are about to bring in today's harvest. See that you get as much as you can processed as soon as possible."

"Yes, miss." muttered Dante, along with Seth, Mikey and TJ in chorus. He didn't get up until after Miss Britney had left the kitchen and looked at Seth, who sighed.

"I should have expected it, I'm sorry. Miss Britney is in charge of the kitchen and comes over frequently just like that."

Dante simply nodded.

But shortly afterwards, Dante slipped back into a sluggish automatism, interrupted only by the task of serving the food. With long-trained elegance and lightness, he brought the four ladies of the house their plates and announced the menu - given the fact that there was only one main course followed by a simple dessert, this was perhaps exaggerated, but Miss Carolyn smiled contentedly. When the others appeared with the rest of the plates, she said to Seth:

"Obviously you too can learn something from young lads."

"You never finish learning, mistress," he said surprisingly gentle and bowed.

The rest rushed past Dante as well, he barely tasted his food, carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen as if by remote control, and then found himself in Mistress Alice's rooms. A little surprised, he blinked and flinched as she sighed.

"You look terrible."

"I'm sorry, mistress..."

"How long did Pa send you to sleep?"

"Te-ten hours... I think." He stumbled over his own tongue and she sighed again.

"What a fool. You shouldn't go over eight." Her form was a colorful blur that suddenly became sharp and appeared right in front of him. She frowned. "Go to bed before you fall over. I gave you some of Frank's things..."

He nodded while the rest of her words passed by. "Thank you, mistress," he murmured and staggered into his room. Clumsy, he cleared the bathroom things onto the floor and then peeled off his clothes. In the loose shorts he felt immensely liberated and for a moment he wondered where his cage had gone to, but the thought slipped his mind. The t-shirt was clearly too big, but it was clean and soft and in general... Seconds later the only thing that counted anyway was the soft bed and the warm blanket.

~

A haunting, albeit strangely muffled beeping tore Dante from his sleep. Disoriented, he looked around until his gaze fell on his backpack - he reached for it and pulled out his alarm clock, which must have activated itself at some point. He quickly turned it off and then, with a sigh, placed it on the bedside table - it was six in the morning.

And then the memories crashed back into place with all their might. He gasped for breath and almost knocked the alarm clock to the floor. On a farm the day began early, didn't it?

Hurriedly he slipped out of bed, stumbled in the dark over his carelessly thrown things on the ground and then paused. Slowly he pulled his shorts down and palpated himself. No cage. No! Cage! He giggled a little silly, but he didn't really have time for that now. He slipped into yesterday's sweatpants and shirt and then opened the door to mistress Alice's room. She was still asleep. For a moment he tried to remember if she had said anything on the subject, but nothing came to his mind, so he tiptoed out and sneaked down to the ground floor.

There was a tiny bathroom there, with only a toilet and sink for the slaves- he was afraid to wake Mistress Alice by the sound of water. That was one of the things that certainly provoked a bad mood, and he couldn't use that.

Since Mikey had told him that he could help himself to breakfast without any problems, the second way of the day led him to the kitchen. He would have been satisfied with cornflakes, but opened several cupboards without success - there were simply far too many of them.

"Looking for something?"

Dante winced and banged his head on an open cupboard door.

Frank was standing in the door, already dressed in heavy work clothes, and indeed he seemed shy.

"Good morning, sir. I wanted to-"

"Frank will do." The young man smiled for a tiny moment. "Will you join me for breakfast?" That sounded... strange. Curious, and yet with the fear that the answer was no. "Pa always has breakfast downstairs, but it's too noisy for me. But up here it's lonely so early."

Surprised, Dante said: "I wanted breakfast too. But I can't find any cereal or bowls."

Frank giggled- it seemed strangely childish- and came closer. "Don't you like scrambled eggs?"

"Yes, but- Oh. How many eggs are in your portion?" He remembered which closet the pans were stacked in.

"Five. But you don't have to do this, I can do it myself." Frank shook his head and Dante ducked to the side as large calloused hands passed him by. Cups and glasses appeared in the open closet.

"But that's my job, Frank. To care for the members of this household and-"

"You care for Alice. I can do that alone. Do you drink coffee?"

"No, thanks. I mean..." Dante was confused. Frank sounded less dismissive than more like a child who was proud of being able to do things on his own.

"This here is my cup. It used to have my name on it." Frank held a green cup in his hand and Dante nodded silently. "Two spoons of sugar. Then a small coffee. And then a large one." Frank pointed to the coffee machine, which was in an alcove, and Dante nodded again. Gently he took Frank's cup and turned to the drawer with the cutlery. "Would you like scrambled eggs or not?" Frank then wanted to know and tore open the refrigerator.

Dante paused, hesitantly saying: "I don't want anyone to think I'm lazy or-"

"Nonsense. Three or four?"

"What? No! No, two is plenty."

Unimpressed, Frank took eight eggs from a bowl and Dante deliberately closed his mouth. Frank was obviously a very special case. Instead, he took care of the coffee.

"Aren't the others coming for breakfast?", he finally wanted to know, when a little later Frank divided the scrambled eggs- which now resembled more of an omelet due to the addition of plenty of diced bacon and cheese- between two plates.

"Later," was the short answer.

They sat down opposite each other at one of the smaller tables, and a little uncomfortable, Dante began to eat.

"I really don't want to give the wrong impression," he said quietly and Frank shook his head.

"You don't. The pan doesn't tell Britney who stirred in it, and I want company, so I have company." That sounded very strange again, but Dante nodded. Frank was like Blaise tall and broad and strong, but up close his features seemed softer and his gaze warmer.

When they were finished and Dante put the plates aside to put them in the dishwasher, which he had to clear out first, Frank gave him a smile.

"Thanks for breakfast." A confusing childlike innocence lay in his angular face and before Dante could say anything, he already added: "Morning, Daniel. How's Sarah?"

"She's still asleep," Daniel replied with a tired smile, and then Frank was gone.

"Morning," Dante said automatically and Daniel's face distorted into something that was probably pity.

"Bad first night or just confused?"

"The latter." Looking at Daniel, Dante groped for the handle of the dishwasher.

"I hear you're from a big city. Then I guess it's not surprising." Daniel nodded to his own words and stepped to the cupboard with the cups.

Actually, Dante wanted to ask him about Frank, but for one thing he wasn't sure how to phrase the question, and for another, Ethan and TJ came in, hissing quietly but definitely angry.

"You changed the beds yesterday," Ethan spat, and TJ hissed back:

"And you ironed the sheets last week!"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Was there a crease in the wrong place? Did Jessy complain again?" he mocked and Ethan growled:

"Shut up."

"What are you so upset about?" TJ apparently punched the same notch. "She's not your daughter."

Before Ethan's renewed growl could translate into words, Dante asked aloud:

"Can anyone tell me how Mistress Alice likes her breakfast?"

All three turned to him. All three looked at him as if he were a ghost.

"What? I was only asking."

After a moment, Ethan sighed annoyed and tore open a small closet. "Here. In these two tea tins are the teas she likes. Take it to her and then ask her what to do."

"She usually does it all herself, you know..." Daniel said, then he mercifully showed Dante where he found the rest of the tea accessories.

~

"Dante...?"

"Good morning, Mistress," Dante said quietly as Mistress Alice gave a strange groan and reached for the switch of the bedside lamp. He was kneeling in front of her bed- which was worse: standing for hours as a butler or kneeling for hours as a personal slave, a household could discuss this for days- and gave her a cautious smile as she looked at him sleepily. "I have brought tea, mistress."

"Thank you..." she murmured and rubbed her eyes. "You don't look as if you've been to the bathroom," she remarked.

"I didn't mean to wake you with the water rushing, mistress."

"Laudable thought, but not justified. Shave, take a shower..." - she was interrupted by a yawn- "and then we'll have breakfast."

"I had breakfast, mistress."

"That's okay... Go."

He rose and collected his things for the bathroom before entering it. It was bathed in a grayish sky blue, small but quite adequate. He needed a shave badly, but he hurried up with it and got into the shower - the hot water was a dream. His arms and shoulders, which felt the hours of window cleaning, relaxed and his hand slipped- still a little incredulous- into his crotch. For the last fifteen years, this damn cage had been taken off only every few days for washing under supervision (which was pointless if he was considered impotent, but it was probably a matter of principle). If he didn't fall asleep as soon as he saw the bed tonight, he would deal with it. Again a silly giggle escaped him.

~

The little red car seemed to rush across the road much faster than the truck, but maybe that was just imagination.

"Mistress?" Dante ventured a push as they approached Townsend after a twenty minutes drive.

"Hmm?"

"Seth told me to tell you that I used to-"

"Ah. Butler, chauffeur, bodyguard. Yes. I read your file."

From the quick glance he got, he involuntarily straightened up.

"Ma gave me money for your outfit. If you're really good, like you indicated yesterday..." She didn't finish the sentence.

"I will try my best, mistress."

"I hope so for your sake," she returned coolly.

The well-known nervousness when a new Mistress made a threat and was very obviously very serious about it, crept into Dante's stomach and his upright posture stiffened.

A few minutes later she parked and led him to a clothing store whose illuminated letters announced that there was a suitable outfit for every slave.

"Good morning, Sister," greeted the saleswoman politely.

"Good morning, Sister," greeted Mistress Alice back.

"House slave or work slave?", the saleswoman wanted to know and Mistress Alice gave a thoughtful sigh.

"Do you have a survey for me?"

"Of course, Sister." The saleswoman handed Mistress Alice a kind of thin catalog, and Dante's nervousness crawled between his shoulder blades to settle there as an itch. Mistress Alice didn't say he was a house slave.

She didn't say anything else that might give him a clue, but clapped the catalog on the counter after a few minutes and pointed to various illustrations. The eyes of the saleswoman grew larger and larger and Dante's nervousness grew as well.

"Undress," Mistress Alice finally ordered and the saleswoman approached with a tape measure.

Quickly he took off his shirt and trousers; he didn't miss the brief twitching of the saleswoman's eyebrows when she saw him without a cage, but wordlessly she took a few measurements and then nodded.

"We have most of it in stock, it will only take a few minutes. We will deliver the rest in a couple of days."

"Give him directly a standard set and the shoes."

"Of course, Sister." The saleswoman nodded and started typing around on her computer.

Mistress Alice, however, stepped up to Dante and said quietly: "You are an expensive slave in every way."

He lowered his eyes and clasped his hands behind his back, but when she tugged lightly on his collar, he looked at her again.

"I expect you to be worth your price."

"I will try my best, mistress," he repeated his words from before and tried to sound even more serious, even more honest. Her gaze bored into his and he swallowed hard. In Denser's Port he had had a reputation among the slaves for often being bolder than was good for him, but in situations like these he was like everyone else and prayed not to catch his mistress on the wrong foot.

The saleswoman's throat-clearing saved him and he quickly slipped into the comfortable boxer briefs and the black shorts and white t-shirt she handed him, which were common on the farm. In addition, he was given simple but robust, cream-colored cloth shoes.
"Thank you, mistress," he said and bowed.

She nodded hardly noticeably.

"What name shall I save the data in?", the saleswoman wanted to know and handed Mistress Alice her card back.

"Dante Sapphire," Dante replied, while at the same moment his mistress said:

"Dante Mitchell." They looked at each other, her lips twitching. "Fucking upper class," she muttered, barely audible, and then said sourly: "Dante Sapphire-Mitchell." In the upper class his name was worth something, but here it was obviously just an annoying detail, another annoying clause in his contract - normally a slave wore the last name of his mistress, no matter where he came from.

"All right."

An uncomfortable silence ensued until an elderly slave appeared from a doorway, holding five large bags in his hand, and bowed deeply before Mistress Alice.

"Dante, take your stuff."

"Yes, Mistress." Even before he could reach for the bags, she turned to leave, and after he bowed slightly towards the saleswoman, he hurried after her.

But instead of going back to the car, Mistress Alice walked with long steps along the street until they reached a drugstore. "You are not used to walking barefoot, are you?" she asked as she stepped through the front door.

"No, Mistress." Without socks, shoes were uncomfortable, but it was definitely better than barefoot; still, his feet hurt.

She grabbed a little basket and then he fell into bodyguard mode.

He hardly noticed what she put into the basket, but rather eyed a bitter looking slave who wore an unusual collar and whose arms were full of scars. Only when the cashier winked happily at Mistress Alice wishing her 'a lot of fun' did his attention flicker to her shopping and he just saw the slave, who was packing the things, put a pack of condoms as the last item in the bag. Although she had said she didn't want to use his services in this respect, his discomfort now reached a new level.

"New toy," Mistress Alice said to the cashier, returning the cheerful wink before accepting the bag from the slave and then stuffing it on top of a garment bag without further ado.

Silently they went back to the car and after Dante had stowed the bags in the trunk, Mistress Alice handed him the car keys.

He reached for them, but she didn't let go.

"I didn't want a personal slave and I don't need one. You may bring me tea in the morning and then have breakfast with me- and then you will leave my sight. I want to work in peace and I don't need anyone sitting next to me with glassy eyes waiting to wipe a crumb from my chin." Her voice was hard, and Dante said quietly:

"Understood, mistress." Well, apparently, he was more of a house slave than a personal slave.

"Very well. Be good and we'll get along splendidly."

He spent almost the entire rest of the day in the kitchen, working with TJ- whose babbling was already getting on his nerves- and processing loads of peas and green beans.

When he staggered into his room late at night, his fingers were so sore from the unusual movements that exploring the area below the belt was out of the question. After he turned on the tiny ceiling light, he hesitated. On his bedside table were bottles which hadn't stood there before. A little curious, he picked up the largest tube and had to smile: ointment for the feet. Hand cream. Lubricant.

His smile went out. For a reason he could not put into words, the lubricant made him nervous.